


Rings

by this_bright_eyed_soul



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Modern AU, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_bright_eyed_soul/pseuds/this_bright_eyed_soul
Summary: Anne and Gilbert are back in Avonlea again after Anne's final college year. Sitting together on a grassy bank, Gilbert wants to recite a poem for Anne - not an unusual occurrence. What is unusual, this evening, is the small black box sitting in Gilbert's blazer pocket.Modern AU mostly because Carol Ann Duffy definitely did not exist at the start of the 20th century, other than that there's not much difference





	Rings

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to write this because I think Anne would love Carol Ann Duffy, and it needed to be this poem because I got carried away with the fluff and wanted to make them cry with joy

Gilbert prayed silently  for  his heart to slow down, lest the beautiful Anne Shirley-Cuthbert felt it pounding against her back and demanded to know what was disturbing him.

They were up against a grass bank in their small village of Avonlea, Gilbert’s back against the grass, Anne’s back against his chest and nestled in his crossed legs. It was their first summer evening back from college, at the end of Anne’s final year, with more years to go for Gilbert. The sun, though making its way down behind them and casting their shared shadow long and outstretched before them, was giving every ounce of its energy into warming the last of the day. Gilbert was uncomfortably warm, a light blazer still over his shoulders, but he couldn’t take it off, for risk of Anne spotting the small lump  in  his left inside pocket. Presently, it hung by his side, brushing against his ribs tauntingly.

He pressed a gentle kiss  to  Anne’s temple, marvelling at how soft her skin  was.  All he wanted was to spend the rest of the evening, the rest of his days, worshipping her in every way he could.

“The sunset always reminds me of you, Anne” he murmured against her, and she melted further into his chest.

“I’m right here, Gil,” she teased, taking his left hand and holding it  to  her chest, playing softly with his fingers.

Her skin was cool there, pale even under the sun, and he worried mildly whether having his warm hand over her heart would cause her discomfort, but he didn’t want to give up his position.

“But when I see the deep, fiery, orange light stretched out across the sky, I am reminded of your vastness and your wonder.”

She lifted his hand again, pressing his fingertips sweetly to her lips, making his heart flutter.  “You are so romantical, Gilbert, I’m so lucky to have you.”

Though it was tempting to start waxing lyrical about how  _ he _ , Gilbert Blythe, was the lucky one, and every night thanked the stars for sending this stunning creature down to accompany him, he could not. If he did, he would never get  round  to carrying out the most important task of the night.

“I found another poem I thought you’d like,” his voice came out surprisingly calm  to  his own ears, as he felt his heart racing once again.

“Oh Gil, you are being good  to  me tonight.” She sighed into his hand, before placing it back over her heart. “Not that you’re not usually wonderful as well,” she amended quickly.

Gilbert laughed, and pressed a kiss to her ear.

“Whose is it then?”

“Carol Ann Duffy.”

“Oh how romantical, I do adore her writing!”

“I know, that’s why I chose her,” Gilbert laughed into her ear again. “Will you promise to sit quietly while I recite?”

His chest tightened in anxiety, and Anne nodded once, settling lower to rest her head on his chest.

_“_ _I might have raised you hand to the sky_    
_to give you the ring surrounding the moon_    
_or looked to twin the rings of your eyes_    
_with mine”_

Gilbert felt Anne’s breath catch in her throat and he tried not to falter.

_"or added a ring to the rings of a tree_    
_by forming a handheld circle with you, thee,_    
_or walked with you_    
_where a ring of church-bells_    
_looped the fields,_    
_or kissed a lipstick ring on your cheek,_    
_or pressed a flower,_    
_or met with you_    
_in the ring of an hour,_    
_and another hour..._    
_I might_    
_have opened your palm to the weather, turned, turned,_    
_till your fingers were ringed in rain_    
_or held you close,_    
_they were playing our song,_    
_in the ring of a slow dance_    
_or carved our names in the rough ring of a heart_    
_or heard the ring of an owl’s hoot_    
_as we headed home in the dark_    
_or the ring, first thing,_    
_of chorusing birds_    
_waking the house”_

His voice began shaking, and Anne gripped the hand against her heart tightly.

_“or given the ring of a boat, rowing the lake,_    
_or the ring of swans, monogamous, two,_    
_or the watery rings made by the fish_    
_as they leaped and splashed_    
_or the ring of the sun’s reflection there..._    
_I might have tied_    
_a blade of grass,_    
_a green ring for your finger,_    
_or told you the ring of a sonnet by heart_    
_or brought you a lichen ring,_    
_found on a warm wall,_    
_or given a ring of ice in winter_    
_or in the snow_    
_sung with you the five gold rings of a carol_    
_or stolen a ring of your hair_    
_or whispered the word in your ear_    
_that brought us here,”_

With his right hand, he took a lock of Anne’s hair in his fingers, twirling it reverently. After a short pause, he shifted himself from under her, crawling around to kneel in front of her; not one knee, but two, like a prayer. Looking into her eyes now, hers and his threatening to spill their tears, he could barely continue in a whisper:

_ “where nothing and no one is wrong” _

He reached into his pocket, hands shaking, and pulled out the box that had been resting there. As he opened it, he wasn’t sure he would be able to finish the poem, but Anne’s small, shaky, teary, joyful laugh gave him the energy.

_ “and  _ _ therefore _ _  I give you this ring.” _

Gilbert held his breath, his heart and his life on display in that ring box, offered to Anne as clearly as he could.

After a moment of stunned silence from Anne, she fell forwards into him, and he let out a breath along with his tears as she embraced him, and he embraced her.

“Oh, Gilbert,” she sobbed into his shoulder, and he let out a teary laugh of his own.

He didn’t let the absence of a yes worry him just yet; the yes was  in  her eyes, in her smile, in her embrace, in her voice.

“You still have years of study left!”

“Anne, if it doesn’t bother you, it doesn’t bother me. I want every breath I take to be shared with you as a wonder of this wide world, if you want to share it with me.”

“Oh Gilbert I do, I do very much want to share it with you, every moment,” she continued sobbing, but pulled back to look at him.

They must have looked a state, embracing and sobbing and grinning, but as Gilbert stared at Anne, his Anne, he felt there was nothing more beautiful than the way her lips, eyes, and cheeks were pink and sticky with her tears. For if they were tears of joy, how could it not be beautiful.

After a moment more, they kissed, soft and warm and smiling.

“If it doesn’t fit, Anne, I’ll have it resized immediately, I’ll go into Charlottetown first thing tomorrow. It was my mother’s, so it may not be the perfect size.”

He took the ring  in  question out of the box  for  Anne to see it clearer. The silver band twisted around a small diamond, resting like a single, twinkling star in the distance.

“Though neither of us knew her, I’m sure she could not have imagined a more worthy girl for me to offer this to,” Gilbert murmured, smiling gently at his  fiancé .

Anne was grinning, staring at the ring with a reverence he knew was reserved only for the most precious of items she came across. She looked up, then,  to  Gilbert, and her smile grew gentle, like his; content.

“Would you put it on me?”

“With pleasure, Miss Anne,” he said with mock drama, but his eyes and smile remained tender.

Taking her left hand delicately in his, he slid the ring onto her third finger. It was only the smallest bit too large, and Anne brought her hand up to display it between them.

“It’s beautiful, Gil. Thank you.”

“I love you, Anne.”

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!
> 
> The poem was Rings (hence this fic's title) by Carol Ann Duffy


End file.
